Thursday, July 25, 2013

So it's July 25 and the Barzams are on July 30 and 31. Five days left. I want to cry all the time. I want to cry every time I get a Crim Pro question wrong. I want to cry every time I get an Evidence question wrong. I want to cry when I spot an issue and cry when I don't. I can't remember all these rules and picking and choosing feels like a death sentence. I know what I pick isn't going to show up and what I don't pick is going to be 5 essays' worth of zero.

I plan to hit the brakes around noon on Monday, July 29, and go get a massage. I plan to get to the Javits Center as early as I can, pop in the earplugs and stare at the ceiling until the exam starts. There is going to be some fucker who wants to talk to me, or worse, other fuckers complaining about what is and isn't going to show up on the exam. I don't understand how people can be so stupid. I just don't. And then want to be vex when they get a hard look or a request to please shut the eff up.

John has made these last 3 weeks almost blissful, despite the whole "I want to cry all the time, my life depends on this" situation. Someone pointed out to me that this is the first time in our marriage that we've been together alone, without Derek, for anything longer than a weekend. I thought we'd have to wait till he was 18 and off to college or jail before we'd experience this. I've been really happy, despite the direness I feel, being with the husband. He's been beyond cute and sexy, making me laugh. Maybe he's just dying to yell at me or wants to curl up in his own ball and cry, but I can safely say that he is putting me first and I love him more than I can ever express to his bony ass. I honestly do not think I could have got through this without his total, complete, and outward support. I keep telling him how great he's been taking care of me, but it always sounds so lame. He'd probably enjoy it more if I showed him my appreciation in the sack. Note to self!

And all those other people who have been wunnerful. Michele, who did this a few years ago and sent me the most encouraging message that I still have pasted up on the wall in front of my desk. Kimmy, who makes me feel like I can do this. Alex and BB, who are my law school peeps and still managed to be in my back pocket this whole time, commiserating, helping, hating, enduring.

I don't just want this to be over. I want it to be over knowing I did what I could and couldn't have done more because my body and mind couldn't do any more. I want it to be over knowing I passed.